This pregnant lady bites back

by Rachel Brear

Being the first of my friends to get knocked up has been a learning experience for me. I’ve not really had any buddies to bounce ideas and thoughts and feelings off of, so I was pretty unprepared for a lot of experiences that have happened during the past eight months. Sure, there are books and websites for advice but it’s completely different when you experience it for yourself. I’ve become pretty cranky when it comes to my changing body and hormones, and am also extremely protective of my growing baby, so beware if you see me on the street and I bite your head off for asking me what you, stupidly, think is a “simple question.”

First of all, when a woman gets pregnant her uterus expands to accommodate the growing fetus inside of her. This makes the mother’s stomach appear large. This does not mean, however, that the mom is automatically carrying twins, and it is a little insulting to the mother if she’s only got a single fetus inside her. Also, comments that suggest that “You’re huge!” to “Looks like someone is ready to pop!” are not funny to the mom-to-be, as she is probably self-conscious of how quickly her body has changed. Naturally it takes a little while for her to embrace it.

I was shopping at Lowe’s Hardware store the other night buying a present for my husband when I needed help and asked an associate to advise me. He pointed to where the power tools were and as I was walking off he said, “Ma’m, would you like a motorized chair to get you over there? You look like you’re not going to make it.”

I smiled, overcome by his audacity, and told him to “eff off” in my sweetest Mom voice.

Then there were the awesome guys who work in the office next door who started singing “Here Comes Santa Claus” when I got out of my car to walk inside the building. Sure, I was wearing a red shirt, but the bowl full of jelly that is my belly wasn’t amused.

They sing in a higher pitch now that I have removed their testicles.

Someone on MySpace messaged me that they were going to start calling me “The Stomach” or “Belly Woman.” Are those terms of endearment? Maybe to some people, but all pregnant women think you’re an idiot. And that’s why women don’t let you near them.

My favorite is the mock-shock people get when they ask when your due date is. My conversations go like this:

Them: “Wow, you’re really big! Looks like someone’s having a Christmas baby!”

Me: “Actually, no, she’s due in early February, Super Bowl Sunday” (fake laughter, feigned interest in talking to me about my kid).

Them: “No! Well then you’re having twins!”

Me: “No, just the one.”

Them: “Well it’s a boy then! A football player!”

Me: “Um, she’s a girl. A tiny, adorable baby girl. Who thinks you’re an asshole.”

My own father has even fallen into this vicious cycle of insult. He took me to breakfast the other day, and parked in the handicapped space since I was expecting. Disabled parking? Seriously?

Okay, okay, it’s not all bad. Besides the overactive bladder and always being hungry some pretty cool things have happened as well. I was bumped up to a first-class seat when I flew to Houston last month. Also the driver from a very friendly sandwich delivery place picked up an ice-cream sundae for me on the way to my office because I said the baby wanted it. I’ve had three awesome baby showers and all my girlfriends look at me like I’m some super mom or something for handling this all so well. Oh, and apparently my hair is super shiny these days.

I am excited for our baby to be born but I also really like being a bitch to people. When Clarey walks into my office and sniffs with his big ol’ Long Island shnoz and says “Are you goddamned eating again?” and I tell him to “Suck it” and he doesn’t bat an eye… that’s cool.

One thing I’ve heard about this baby is if I think the comments are bad now, wait until someone questions my mothering skills like when the baby throws a fit in the grocery store and a passerby doesn’t like my reaction. That is exciting because the baby’s sign language should be good enough for her to flip her tiny, cute little middle finger.

That’s my girl.